


Best Intentions

by tearsandschmaltz



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Rachel & Nico friendship, implied/referenced eating disorder, post-BOO pre-hidden oracle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-13 01:03:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7131767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tearsandschmaltz/pseuds/tearsandschmaltz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nico is having trouble eating, and Will can't find a medical reason for what's wrong with him. In a stroke of genius, he decides the only solution is to start the first ever Camp Half-Blood Cook Off. Of course, the event quickly spirals out of control, and Will struggles to find a way to help his boyfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

            “Will?”

            Will looked up to find Nico standing in the doorway of the Apollo cabin, and a smile immediately spread across his face. It was still difficult for him to believe he had actually been successful in flirting with a guy—so successful, in fact, they were dating.

            “What’s up?” It wasn’t unusual for Nico to come visit; after all, Will made sure he could do it at any time because it was “doctor’s orders”. Nico had migraines that could _only_ be cured if he spent an hour in the Apollo cabin every day. Bullshit? Absolutely. But being the best healer in the camp came in handy when it didn’t require him to reattach limbs.

            Nico shuffled uncomfortably back and forth in the doorway. Will was struck by the urge to wrap him up in his arms; no matter how much sunlight he got, Nico always appeared pale and cold and desperately in need of a hug.

            “There’s no one else in here right now, right?” Nico looked at his feet and mumbled. At first, Will’s heart began to race and his cheeks burned hot with a blush. He and Nico had been seeing each other for a few months now—he wasn’t even expecting to do anything beyond kissing at this point. (Maybe a little bit. He was a teenage boy, after all.)

            Will turned and sat on the edge of his bunk, the wood and mattress squeaking and groaning under his weight. He glanced around to make sure none of his siblings were napping and he just hadn’t seen them; the paint-strewn and instrument case covered cabin was empty except for Nico and Will.

            “Just us,” Will breathed, and as he reached down to take off his shirt, Nico was already pulling his off. A buzz shot through Will’s body, and he almost got excited until he saw the look on Nico’s face.

            Of course he would have loved to see Nico shirtless, but his boyfriend looked like he had just witnessed an animal getting run over by a truck. Maybe not that, because death was not as shocking to him as others—he and Will had that in common. He had just seen—Chiron getting shot. Okay, horrible example. He had no relationship with Chiron in the first place and—Will chastised himself and turned back to Nico. He self-consciously covered his mid-section with his arms, and Will saw why: his ribs poked and jabbed out of his skin, and though his face looked gaunt (a trait not unusual for children of Hades), there was something malnourished and emaciated about Nico’s entire physique.

            Nico ran his fingers down his rib bones and shivered. “What’s wrong with me?” he asked. “No matter what I do or what I eat, I still look like this. It’s…ugh. Embarrassing.”

            Will stood up and pulled his shirt back down over his pants. At Nico’s side, he reached out a few of his own fingers to feel Nico’s ribs and put pressure on his stomach. As Nico stood with his arms out, Will saw distinct pink and white scars peek out from above Nico’s sagging pants. He wondered if they were that small, or if more were hidden below his belt. Hopefully he would know soon enough. A blush spread across his face and he scolded himself for getting distracted.

            His hands wandered across Nico’s bony midsection. Normally, he could feel whatever problem was inside within seconds, but he only felt Nico’s frigid skin. Drawing his brows together, he tried to concentrate on something— _anything_ —but nothing was coming to him.

            He paused and drew his fingers across Nico’s ribs. Of course he was shivering—Will always thought it was because he was a son of Hades, but his boyfriend was seriously emaciated. Anemic, probably, too. But those were only consequences, not the problem itself, and concern began to ebb into his thoughts. How could he not know what was the matter?

            Unless…his eyes drifted back down towards the puffy pink scars that were climbing over Nico’s waistband. The corners of his mouth pulled downward. He knew Nico had trouble sometimes—well, most of the time—but it had never occurred to him that he would… _hurt_ himself over it.

            With a jolt, he stood up. There could be a reason he couldn’t find the problem.   

            “Nico,” he started, standing so he would be eye level with his boyfriend, “you would tell me if you were doing this to yourself, wouldn’t you?”

            Nico’s eyes darted down and he scowled. “Oh, please. If I wanted to hurt myself, there are a billion other ways I could do it. We both know that.”

            Though the cabin was no doctor’s office, Will and his siblings had done their best to try and accommodate the campers that needed to be healed by setting up a curtained area towards the back. Will gestured for Nico to follow him and sat opposite him in the beanbag chairs on the floor (it was the best thing they could find, and no one in the Hephaestus cabin agreed to make them chairs unless the chairs could also shoot fire and/or explode).

            “I mean it,” Will said, his hands itching to reach out and hold Nico’s. “If you’re doing this on purpose, then there’s not much I can do to help you.”

            Nico was staring at his shoes and wrapping his arms around himself so his ribs would be hidden. “I’m not trying to do this, you know. Every time I eat food I feel like I’m going to throw up or that it has no taste.” He exhaled a shaky breath. “What am I supposed to do?”

            They locked eyes and Will felt something tug in his heart. As he saw Nico sitting vulnerable and shivering across from him, his Apollonian instincts to write a poem or a song for the love that overcame him, even though healing was his best (and really only) talent. He knew Nico had been hurt and battered more than anyone else—and Gods knew that the rest of the campers made sure Will knew it and threatened him if he were to ever inflict any suffering on him—and somehow, he had been the one he felt comfortable revealing himself to. Maybe he would ask about the scars later when Nico was back to full health.

            “Can you heal me? Or do…something?” Nico smiled a little. “You’ve gotta have something up your sleeve.”

            Will stood up and gestured for Nico to lie back on the beanbag chair. He pressed his hands across Nico’s stomach and chest, trying not to stare too much.

            Nico sat up and reached out for Will’s hand. “Tell me you found it. Or else I’ll have to tell everyone you’re a fake healer.” Ah, there was the dry humor Will loved so much.

            “I didn’t feel anything.” Will scratched his head, and as he saw the sketch one of his sisters had been drawing pinned up across the room, it dawned on him. “I know what we’ll do.”

            Nico eyed Will up and down and raised his eyebrows. “It would be nice, but I don’t think that’ll work.”

            Will’s entire body got hot. He scratched awkwardly at his face and tried to find a clever way to accept the proposition while revealing his actual plan…

            Again he looked at the sketch, which portrayed a delicious slice of bread and jam (his sister was young and said she “didn’t want to paint anything serious yet”). “That’s a different kind of medicine than I have in mind.We’re going to have a cook off for you. We’ll find something that you like. I know it.”

* * *

 

            Of course, only a few people knew the true reasoning behind the sudden and over-hyped Camp Half-Blood First Annual Cook Off. Will was a judge, though he would likely eat much less of the food than Nico, the other judge; he was really only there to observe what Nico did as he ate. As a decoy—because Nico was embarrassed that he “looked like one of his father’s skeletons and everyone would know what this was about”—Rachel Dare was added to the panel, because she boasted about having a “perfect palate”. And, of course, Chiron was on the panel, though he didn’t seem very enthused. Will guessed that immortality must have made any combination of food feel repetitive.

            Reporters from Hephaestus TV were filming the whole saga and streaming it to Olympus, which Nico stated was “frankly unnecessary and intolerable”, to which the Hephaestus kids threatened to hurt him with one of their new inventions. Will felt bad, seeing how personal this was to Nico, and worried that the cameras would only serve to humiliate him further. Nico’s lanky figure was already drawing in a great amount of easy jokes (“Jeez, Nico, you’re just skin and bones—Underworld much?”), and now it was being broadcasted for the gods to see. One of Will’s sisters, Amelia, was deeply involved in theater and would have gladly done some make up for Nico, but she was only a summer camper, so there was no one around who was able to give Nico a prosthetic double chin (he protested that would be a “nuisance” and more embarrassing than everything else). So Nico’s gaunt face was being projected on a mile-high TV, and Will was praying that he was the only one who noticed that something was really wrong.

            Dividing up the competition had not been an easy task. The Nemesis, Ares, and Nike cabins had wanted to pit cabins against each other, but Chiron sensed an impending disaster if that were to happen. Instead, each cabin got its own day to cook; participation was optional, but encouraged. A camper would serve their dish, and if it was voted into the next round, they would make a second dish against whatever campers had also proceeded. And the final round would be the five remaining campers—but only one dish could win. Of course, in the sense of competition, one dish could win, but the real winner would be whoever could get Nico to hold down their food.

            By a stroke of “random chance” or brute force, the Ares cabin was the first cabin to cook. Will’s stomach growled—admittedly, he hadn’t eaten in preparation for the competition—but as he saw the huge, hulking Ares campers pull out stacks upon stacks of meat, he wondered if that was a big mistake. How many times could you eat a hamburger or ribs while still being gracious to the person who made them?

            Some minor god was the host of the program, and the cameras were trained on the cooks, so Will turned to Nico.

            “So…what do you think?” Will asked. He studied Nico’s face for which emotion appeared first—it was always his true emotion, which he then masked through deadpan and/or sarcasm.

            A smile tugged at the corner of Nico’s lips. “I think it’s an obnoxiously embarrassing idea, but I can’t wait to throw up some food right into the Ares kids’ faces.”

            He turned and smiled a full smile (even showing his teeth!) at Will. He reached over and squeezed his hand.

            Nico’s eyes flickered over to the cameras. “If you tell anyone I smiled, you’re dead, Solace.”

            Will wanted to say something but was interrupted by the sounds of huge flames bursting from grills and the cheers from the crowd watching. One camper in particular, Brick, was moving his steak over the huge flames like he was blowing glass and was afraid it would break. Beside him, Clarisse was pouring sauce over her ribs in the same way Will had seen Rachel pour paint over some of her canvases. Every single meal from the Ares campers made Will think he was about to prepare himself for a bodybuilding competition.

            Out of the corner of his eye, Will could see Nico twisting his skull ring back and forth. The Hephaestus TV lights made his dark circles even more apparent. The nippy winter breeze ruffled his hair, and Will resisted the urge to reach out and run his hands through it.

            “I can’t wait to totally demolish some of this food,” Rachel said and leaned back in her chair. She was scribbling on her jeans in sharpie, but her strokes were much less controlled than usual. Her frizzy hair was hanging limp around her shoulders, and just like Nico, she had dark circles.

            It seemed to Will that _everyone_ had something off with them, and it was one of the few moments where he despised being a healer. There were always irreparable things that no medicine could touch and pain that even Asclepius himself would not have known what do with. His first instinct was always to find the problem and minimize the pain and damage it was causing. What was he if he couldn’t do that for his friends?

            And as he cast sidelong glances at Nico, he felt worse. He knew he made him happy, but he wanted to make Nico _better_ , too. He knew that the entire world was often out to get his boyfriend, and he was determined to never be one of the things that contributed to the scars climbing up the sides of his hips. But making him happy wasn’t making him better, as far as he could see, and that made this competition all the more important.

            His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the five minute warning siren, which caused him to jump. Chiron pawed the ground and surveyed the camp.

            “I don’t see why they’re forcing us to sit here while they cook,” he stated. “Those cameras haven’t been pointed towards us a single time.” He was nervously eying a camper next to Clarisse, whose steak looked more like a hunk of obsidian than a piece of meat.

            Rachel, taking notice at what Chiron saw, shuddered. “I’m just telling you all now that I am not going to go easy on those campers.”

            Nico elbowed her and caused her to drag the tip of her marker in a crooked line across her jeans. “We agreed that _I’m_ the Simon Cowell of the judges, Dare.”

            Holding her sharpie up like a weapon, Rachel asked, “Who said there had to be just one?”

            Then the final bell sounded, resounding and shrill, and the cameras whipped around at light-speed to face the judges’ table. Will blinked against the bright lights, and Nico’s hand found his under the table. His fingers squeezed Will’s, and despite how clammy Nico was, Will felt warm when their palms touched.

            The host of the show strolled over to the judges and flashed a huge smile as he leaned against the table. “Here I am with our esteemed panel of judges—so esteemed, in fact, that I’ve only ever heard of one of them!” He laughed at his own joke, and his cameramen laughed too; Will wondered if someone was editing in laughter to make it seem like the campers were surrounding the cooking area, watching rapturously.

            “Chiron, nice to see you again!” The god stretched across the table as if he were going to hug him then punched him in the arm.

            Chiron nodded curtly. “Momus. I never expected to see you on daytime television.”

            Nico’s face darkened and he leaned over to Will. “That’s Momus.”

            Will nodded and patted Nico’s shoulder. “I know, I heard Chiron say so.”

            “I’ve never liked him,” Nico muttered. He scratched the back of his head with his free hand.

            Will was surprised. “You’ve met him before?” He supposed it shouldn’t have shocked him, though—Nico could shadow travel virtually anywhere in the world. He wasn’t confined to one camp like most of the campers were.

            Nico shook his head. “No, I know him from Mythomagic. God of satire and mockery. All he could do was fire a wicked comeback at his opponent, and I myself know that a comeback does not compare with the ability to summon a skeleton army at will. Plus, his card design is lame.”

            Will glanced over at Momus, hoping supersonic hearing wasn’t one of his traits. He had moved on from Chiron and was beginning to talk to Rachel, who was leaning back in her chair with her arms across her chest and a smug expression on her face.

            Before Momus could ask Rachel for her name, Rachel held out a hand and stopped him. “Rachel Elizabeth Dare. I was the one you’ve heard of, obviously—I’m the Oracle.”

            Momus’s face twisted into a frown and he laughed nervously. Narrowing his eyes, he shot back, “Well, if you’re the Oracle, I’m sure you can predict how this competition will end, then! What’s the use in being a judge?”

            Rachel capped her sharpie and set it down on the table like it was an oyster fork at a fancy dinner she was hosting. “Unfortunately, the gift of prophecy doesn’t work like that. But I _do_ have the gift of a perfect palate, so I’m ready to crush some dreams.”

            Will shook his head in awe. Even when out of her groove, Rachel was on fire—and he didn’t just mean her hair.

            “Yikes. Don’t let anyone hear that joke,” Nico whispered to Will. “Momus would tear you to shreds.”

            “I said that out loud?” Will asked. His face burned.

            “It’s okay. Dare gets the best of all of us. Been trying to figure what about her makes even me do that, but I don’t have an answer.”

            Momus slid down towards Nico and Will, his face spreading into a sickly smile as her eyes saw their hands tangled together. Will knew that smile: the smile of an attacker about to humiliate his opponent. It was the smile of homophobes on the street and monsters in the middle of battle. He sat up straighter and squared his shoulders.

            “Well! Who do we have here?” Momus scratched at his stubbly chin then held up a finger like he had remembered something. “Ah, yes, I recall. Nico di Angelo, son of Hades.”

            Nico arched an eyebrow at Momus then turned to Will. He rolled his eyes, and Will cocked his head towards Momus, wanting to get Nico out of the spotlight as quickly as possible.

            “Mr. di Angelo, I must say, they told me you were tall, dark, and handsome, but descriptions never seem to compare to the real thing.”

            Nico shrugged. “People seem to think I’m tall, but I don’t know where they got that idea from.” Under the table, Nico’s nails dug into Will’s hand, and Will closed his eyes. _Please_ , he silently prayed to Apollo, _just let us make it through this unscathed_.

            “Do you have a lot of admirers, Nico?” Momus asked. He leaned up against the table and stared up at the sky as if deep in thought. “I’m sure you do.”

            Nico’s eyes widened as he realized the trap Momus was setting for him. Will glanced back and forth between the two of them, unsure of what to do or say. Everyone at camp knew about his relationship with Nico, but Will had no idea how the gods would feel about it—especially Nico’s father, if he was actually watching this train wreck of a show. Nico always seemed very uncomfortable with the idea of being “out” and telling everyone about who he was; Will was the opposite but respected Nico’s desire for privacy.

            “Hey,” he said, and Momus turned to face him. “Isn’t this a cooking show? What do we care about Nico’s love life?”

            Momus drew his brows together and smiled. It reminded Will a little bit of Tom on _Tom and Jerry_ when he finally thought he had caught Jerry. “You would care a lot about that, wouldn’t you, Mister…?”

            “Solace,” Will stated. “Will Solace. Can we eat the food now? This is boring.”

            Will glanced down the table at the others for help, and Rachel was leaning forward in her seat, its back legs in the air. She looked ready to pounce on Momus.

            “As the host of this show, Will, I will direct matters as I see fit,” Momus chided. He turned to face the cameras and flashed a smile. “And our viewers want to know more about this panel. After all, they’ve never heard of _you_.”

            Will’s face began to get hot. He could feel Nico’s hand move away from his and towards his wrist—the movement they had made up to signal when a crowd was getting too overwhelming for Nico. He was trying to stay focused on keeping calm and not embarrassing his boyfriend, but unlike Nico, he couldn’t disappear into the shadows to hide from who he was. He hated feeling ashamed for being gay, and he hated the sneers of know-nothing adults.

            “Oh yeah? How come I’ve never heard of _you_?” Will shot back. He heard Rachel mutter “Damn!” under her breath.

            Momus leaned in, surveyed Will, then turned back towards the cameras. “You can tell this one is a son of Apollo. Arrogant, just like his father. Let me guess, you have a talent with the guitar? Get lots of _babes_ with your music?”

            Will felt his shoulders relax and a smile crossing his face. Nico’s grip was tightening on his wrist, but he ignored it. Oh, this was going to be so good.

            Will glanced over at Rachel, who was holding her sharpie in her hand like a weapon. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he nodded at her.

            “Actually, I’m a healer. Best one in the camp,” he said matter-of-factly. He crossed his arms across his chest. “Would you like me to give you some treatment for the sick burns Rachel and I have been giving you on your own show?”

            Rachel leaped up out of her chair and fist pumped. “Hell yeah, Solace!”

            Nico’s tense shoulders slid down and he smiled at Will. “Nice one, if I do say so myself.”

            Will put a hand across his chest and raised his eyebrows. “Is that a compliment from you, oh Dark One?”

            And as he watched Nico’s face muscles twitching against a smile, Will wanted nothing more than to kiss Nico. They laughed and joined hands again before being interrupted by Momus.

            “Charming. Let’s cut to this message from our sponsors then watch these… _esteemed_ culinary experts judge the fine cuisine of the Ares cabin.”

            As the cameramen busied themselves with repositioning things, Momus turned to Will and Nico and leaned in.

            “Listen here, losers,” Momus started, but Nico leaned forward and interrupted him.

            “For the god of mockery, that was a weak insult,” Nico said. He paused, then added, “I’ve heard better ones from the aimless souls floating around Asphodel.”

            Momus made an annoyed grunt and slammed his fist down on the table. “If this goes well, I’ll get my own late-night Hephaestus TV show. I’ll finally replace that dolt Narcissus. I _will_ do what it takes to get those ratings.”

            Nico was already looking over at Will, his face back to his bored, cynical expression. Will reached out to put an arm around him but stopped in midair when he saw Momus was still watching them.

            “You can’t hide forever, you know,” Momus told them, leaning in so close Will could smell his stale breath. “If your relationship gets me those ratings, I _will_ use it. Everyone up there loves the shock value of finding out one of their kids is gay. And I’m sure your fathers don’t know about… _this_ situation, do they?”

            Nico stood up and the ground rumbled underneath him. “Go right ahead, moron. I’m sure the shock value of my dad giving a shit about me would get you your precious ratings.”

            Will watched as Momus recoiled in surprise. The ground underneath him split into a dark fissure, pale wisps of steam floating out from it.

            Chiron cleared his throat. “Will, I thought you had Nico’s problems under control.” He smirked at him. “You _are_ his doctor, after all.”

            Will sighed. “I’ll—”

            Rachel stood and held up her hand. “Don’t. I’ve got this one.”

            She strolled over to Nico, who was stewing under the shadow a tree some yards away. Wondering when the two had started talking, Will turned to Chiron, who just shrugged. He put his head into his hands and sighed.

            All of this was going the opposite of the way Will had intended things to go. It felt like a bad sitcom—which was maybe how they would rebrand the Hephaestus TV show to garner more views. He had only wanted to find a way to help Nico, and, just like his father, he had managed to do it in the most ostentatious way possible. His doubts about his abilities as a healer began to surface, and he wondered if Nico wished he had a better boyfriend.

            Suddenly, he felt a hand on his back. He looked up and saw Nico. He slid into his seat and reached out to grab Will’s hand.

            “I’m not gonna let that douche get the best of me,” Nico said. He turned to smile—the second time in one day!—and gave Will’s hand a squeeze. “After all, I have to leave room for Rachel, don’t I?”

            Will smiled and laughed nervously. “I’m sorry this is turning out to be a mess.”

            Nico’s cheeks reddened and he looked at the ground. “Wait ‘til you see what happens when I eat this food.”

* * *

            As predicted, most of the Ares campers’ food was a variation of steak, burgers, and ribs. Nico had flat out refused to eat some of them, and Will could feel himself getting full. There were only a handful of campers left, but he wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

            Clarisse’s ribs were passed out, the plates heavy with the amount of sauce pooling towards the sides. Will tucked a napkin into his shirt and began to eat. Of all the campers, he worried about Clarisse’s reaction to criticism most—so he decided to try to find what he liked before what he didn’t like.

            The sauce tasted good, he thought, though there was a little too much of it. He took another bite and turned to face Nico. He caught his eye and raised his eyebrow to indicate he wanted his opinion, to which Nico shook his head.

            “It just…doesn’t have any taste,” he whispered to Will.

            Will frowned. “None of them have had any taste? Not a single one?” He went through his mental list of ailments that caused a loss of taste—maybe Nico was having trouble with his sinuses and hadn’t told him? He was about to ask when Momus walked up to them, a cameraman trailing behind him.

            “What are you two talking about over here?” he asked in a voice that, to an uninformed onlooker, sounded high-pitched, but sounded derisive to Will.

            “How our host is as flavorless as these ribs are,” Nico retorted. He turned back to Will, but Will turned out towards Clarisse.

            “Oh, no, no, I—don’t think they’re flavorless, the sauce is really good,” Will said nervously. “Just maybe there’s…too much of it?”

            Clarisse shot him a glare; he could practically see flames dancing in her eyes. He swallowed and hoped that the camera couldn’t pick up the sound.

            “Not enough seasoning,” Rachel said with a yawn. “Next.”

            Momus snapped his fingers and his crew people whisked away Clarisse’s ribs. Brick’s meal was next, and the judges were given steak knives and new forks in preparation. Will closed his eyes and tried to imagine a bottomless void instead of his stuffed stomach. And hearing Nico swallowing loudly and shifting in his chair wasn’t helping him not to gag on each new bite.

            As Chiron and Rachel began to give their critiques, Nico interrupted and said, “It was fine.” His eyes widened and he shook his head, dashing away from the table. It was the fourth time he’d thrown up after eating the 20-something meals they had been prepared, and Will stood up with a sigh.

            “I’m on it. Brick, I vote you forward to the next round.” With that, Will ran off.

            The second he was at Nico’s side, he was rubbing his back and smoothing down his hair. How could he not have noticed before that Nico barely ate at dinner, and when he did, he excused himself almost immediately? Sitting next to him at the judges’ table, Will realized he had seen Nico do this exact sort of thing before—running off the second he swallowed a bite of food. It had never occurred to him that he would be out of sight throwing it up.

            “Deep breaths,” Will instructed Nico when he stood back up and faltered in his stance. He caught him by the elbow and held him up. “When today is over, come back with me to my cabin. I need to give you some iron pills.”

            Nico wiped off his mouth on the inside of his shirt and shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

            Will grabbed his boyfriend by the shoulders and turned him so that they would be face to face. “Hey,” he said and tried to smile. His hand found Nico’s jawline and stroked it. “We’ll find some food that you can eat. And then we’ll make that person make it for in bulk. Alright?”

            Nico started to smile, but his gaze travelled away from Will’s face to something over his shoulder. Will turned and found himself facing Momus.

            “A very sweet moment between our judges Will and Nico. Care to rejoin the competition, boys?” he asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

            Nico brushed past him and “accidentally” bumped into him, which made Will smile. “Lay it on me.”

            Will turned towards Momus and shrugged. “You’re not making this any easier. For whatever reason, your jokes upset his stomach.”

            If Will had longer hair, he would’ve flipped it in a display of attitude. Instead, he half-jogged so he could catch up and be in stride with Nico. He found his boyfriend’s hand, and together they returned to the judges’ table.


	2. A New Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will gets fed up with Momus and seeks advice from a number of different people.

            Nico and Will were lying together on the beach, the first time they’d been alone together in a few days. Momus had been committed to a non-stop shooting schedule, which had only led to disaster: Clovis had fallen asleep while cooking, exploding the set, while Momus’s exhausted production assistants struggled to keep the damage to a minimum. The resulting catastrophe had caused high ratings on Olympus (it turned out the gods love explosions—who would’ve thought?), and Momus wanted to capitalize on their praise as soon as he could. So he announced that the airing schedule of the show would change, and that filming would be more spread out so he could “whittle the show down to its most pleasing, humorous, and successful elements” in between episodes. Will didn’t care much; the less he had to see Momus the better.

            Nico had fallen asleep on Will’s lap, and Will was glad he wasn’t awake to see his concerned expression. He had seemed even more exhausted than usual; his inability to eat anything was clearly taking a physical toll on his body. And as Momus ruthlessly pointed out Nico every time he threw up on camera, Will felt even worse about this whole idea. All he was trying to do was help, and his good (perhaps poorly thought out) idea had been twisted out of his hands and into Momus’s narcissistic, self-serving vehicle for success.

            Will wrapped his arms around Nico’s stomach and held him closer. He wanted to run his thumbs over Nico’s deepening dark circles, stroke his bony ribs, and maybe take a look at those scars again. Nico’s shirt was riding up, and Will was able to see the tips of those scars, white in the sunlight. As Nico sighed in his sleep, Will knew he had to admit to himself why they were there. He had always suspected that Nico hurt himself, but at times like this, he had to wonder why. And, of course, he had to wonder if he was one of those reasons.

            That was irrational, and he knew it. But he also knew he was placing unnecessary strain on Nico with the dumb idea for the cooking competition that had now spiraled into a nightmare. He was trying his best, but his best wasn’t enough—Nico still couldn’t eat and was getting worse as the days went by. What kind of healer was he? His only talent, the one thing he could pride himself in having, was failing to help the person who mattered most to him.

            Below his gaze, Nico stirred and opened his eyes. He blinked a few times and blushed when he saw Will looking at him. “Did I fall asleep?” he asked.

            “It’s no biggie,” Will said with a shrug. “I like being alone with my thoughts sometimes.”

            Nico stifled a laugh and exaggerated his thin face to be puffed out like Momus’s. “So sensitive! Will, you _must_ have ladies flocking after you,” Nico said in a decent impression of the obnoxious god.

            Will laughed and playfully pushed at Nico. “Gods, don’t we get enough of him in our real lives?”

            Nico sat up and brushed some sand off of his clothes. “Is this not real life?” His smile was twisted, but his eyes were shining. Despite his sickly appearance, Nico looked happy, which warmed Will’s heart.

            Will tried to smile back, but as much as he loved seeing Nico smile, he couldn’t hide his disappointment in himself. “Sometimes it feels like it’s not,” he said. He tried to look away, but Nico grabbed his wrist.

            “Alright, Solace, you’re the worst at hiding your emotions.” Nico paused, then dropped his hand so he would be holding Will’s. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

            Will blinked in surprise. Nico, starting a conversation about emotions? It wasn’t unheard of, but it was definitely unusual. But for once, Will didn’t feel like sharing. “It’s just been a long week,” he mumbled. “Let’s just sit here and be quiet.”

            Nico’s eyes scanned Will’s face like he was trying to see the bigger picture from a single puzzle piece. He drew his brows together but obliged, resting his head on Will’s shoulder.

            Will put his cheek against Nico’s hair and closed his eyes. He wished he had the capability to freeze time so he could feel this moment forever. It wasn’t peaceful and it wasn’t perfect (could anything ever be?), but it was understanding. It was the mutual feeling of compassion with the underlying uneasiness that made it worthwhile. If it could last, maybe making through long shooting days with Momus would be bearable.

            Despite the calm he was starting to feel, Will felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up like he did when he had fought monsters. He had the distinct feeling he was being watched, and he tried (and failed) not to turn around and see who. Nico at first looked annoyed that Will’s comfortable shoulder had been turned away from him, but when he saw what Will saw, his face darkened.

            Momus was observing the two of them from the cliff above the beach, whispering to the production assistant beside him. Will jumped to his feet and wished he could have Percy Jackson’s abilities with water to show Momus how to mind his business. Instead, he stood with his fist outstretched until he felt Nico’s hand on his arm.

            “I’ll take care of this,” Nico said dryly. Sporting an expression even more bored than usual, Nico waved his hand and a few skeleton warriors erupted in front of Momus. Momus squealed like a child then thrust his assistant in front of the skeletons, apparently terrified of doing any fighting himself.

            Nico’s expression hardened and he scowled at the ground. “Let’s go somewhere—” he began to say, but his face turned pale and his body went slack. Will rushed out in time to stop him from collapsing to the sand and tried to support his boyfriend’s body weight against his side. Nico’s head drooped to his shoulder, and he kept repeating, “I’m f—I’m fine.”

            “We’re going to my cabin,” Will declared. “Are you okay to walk?”

            Nico weakly held up a thumbs up and mumbled, “Just peachy,” before his legs gave out on him. Will scooped him up in his arms then cast a glance at the ledge where Momus had been standing to see if the god was still watching them. As Nico tried to wrap his arms around Will’s neck so he would be easier to carry, Will felt the urge to start a fight like never before in his life.

            “Lezgo,” Nico slurred, and Will had to swallow the burning feeling he had inside to focus on making sure Nico would be okay.

* * *

 

            As Will sat beside Nico’s sleeping form curled up in his bed, he decided he had to do something to eliminate the stress of Momus from their relationship. The competition had to go on—he had to find _something_ Nico could eat—but not necessarily with Momus breathing down their necks every new take. Will tried to remember what Nico had told him about the god; he knew Momus had been cast out of Olympus, but why? What had he said or done to upset the gods so deeply? Of course, his exile had to be a touchy subject, but irking him wouldn’t be enough. So what could he do?

            Suddenly, Kayla burst into the cabin then skidded to a stop when she saw Nico and Will. She cocked an eyebrow and smirked. “Is now a bad time?” She pulled her quiver off her back and held it at her side. “I can come back later.”

            Will rolled his eyes and gestured at Nico, who was clutching a pillow to his chest. “Yeah, we’re really busy right now. So busy that Nico fell asleep.” At hearing this, Kayla put her quiver down and came to Will’s side. She sat on the floor next to his bed and looked up at him.

            “What happened now? I thought you said he was exerting himself less because he’s so…you know. Sick.” She pulled her hair up into a bun on top of her head, revealing her undercut, and cast an uncertain glance towards Nico.

            Will shifted his position on his chair and put his head in his hands. “He’s not _sick_ ,” Will muttered. “I shouldn’t have told you anything. He saw Momus spying on us and summoned some skeletons to get back at him…and now we’re here.” Nico stirred in his sleep then sighed. Underneath Will’s white sheets, he looked more ghostly than usual. A chill ran through Will’s body.

            “Is that dickhead bothering you guys?” Kayla rubbed her hands together. “All it would take is one arrow, and then Momus wouldn’t be the host anymore…you just let me know, Will.”

            Will smiled but felt a pang in his stomach. Everything was spiraling so far out of his control. He felt he couldn’t think about anything with a level head or rational mind because he was so concerned about Nico. He knew he was getting worse, and a solution to the problem seemed to be even farther away than when he had started to realize that Nico wasn’t looking healthy at all.

            Sensing something was wrong, Kayla put her hand on Will’s knee. “I know you care a lot about Nico,” she said. Her eyes sparkled, but her expression was serious. “And I know you think you have to cure everyone in the world. But you’re not even a doctor yet, Will. You’re still a teenager. It’s okay to admit you’re out of your depth.”

            Will bristled at the last comment and felt his face grow hot. “If it were anyone else, I would walk away. But it’s…him. And I…” He cleared his throat, feeling tears rise in his eyes. “I care about Nico more than anyone I’ve ever met. Except my mom, maybe. And you might think that’s stupid, but it’s how I feel.”

            Kayla looked over to Nico and back to Will. She pulled her hand away and started to pick at one of the many calluses on her hand. “And you’re sure that, uh…” she looked up at him and frowned. “You’re sure that this is a medical problem and not anything else?”

            He wanted to yell at her that it had to be something medically wrong, because if it wasn’t, there was nothing he could do to fix it. Instead, he just watched Nico’s chest rise and fall underneath the sheets and tapped his fingers on his knees. How long could he go on believing that Nico would never lie to him about hurting himself? It had just seemed unlikely to him that that was the real cause (but on every medical show, wasn’t the unlikely cause always the real ailment?).

            “He’s exerting himself too much,” Will said. “Momus isn’t making it any better.”

            Kayla wrinkled her nose for a moment then reached into her pocket for something. “I honestly know nothing about Momus. I didn’t even know he existed until he showed up and put his smug face everywhere.” She pulled a drachma out and handed it to Will. “Here. Go call someone. Maybe your mom? She might not know what to do, but at least she has the internet.”

            As Will ran his thumbs over the edges of the coin, he knew he and Kayla were sharing the same uneasiness in that moment. Annabeth and Percy, who had been their peers in terms of age, had always been leaders at camp. Annabeth especially always seemed to have an answer, some kind of logic to help anyone out. Now the camp was falling to them, and there was some kind of undercurrent that made familiar things feel strange. Will couldn’t explain it (though anyone else might have attributed it to change), but it was as palpable and real to him as the camera crews hanging around near the dining pavilion. Every move he and the other campers made felt uncertain.

            “Thanks,” he said, and Kayla smiled.

            She stood and put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t forget to take care of yourself, okay? Just because Nico is feeling bad doesn’t mean you have to, too.”

            Will rose from the chair to leave, then looked back down at Nico. “If he wakes up, just tell him I’m out making a call, okay? Just don’t let him sit up and start doing things until he’s rested for a little longer.”

            Kayla nodded, and Will strode out of the cabin, knowing exactly who he had to call.

* * *

 

            Annabeth Chase’s dorm room looked exactly as Will had expected it to (that is, if he had actually bothered to take the time to imagine it). Famous architectural structures were displayed in photographs and models, and Annabeth had a whole series of pictures devoted to herself and Percy. There were a few photos of her with other campers, but the most prominently displayed ones were all of her smiling or laughing with Percy.

            “Will? Is that you?” Annabeth asked, then moved closer to the stream. Her image began to get blurry, and a few of her words cut out. Iris messages had tended to do that recently, and Will hoped this one would last long enough that he’d be able to ask Annabeth for help.

            “Annabeth, listen, I don’t know how long this call will let us talk to each other, but I need your help,” he pleaded. He watched as Annabeth ran a hand through her hair then froze momentarily.

            “—do you need?” Annabeth said. “Did you hear that? What’s the—”

            Will cursed the lack of phones in camp, though he doubted that the quality would have been much better had he called (he didn’t trust any phone company after had had met Hermes briefly—long story).

            “Do you know who Momus is?” Will asked, and watched her squint into the stream. “Momus. I need you to find out more information on him.”

            “—again.” Annabeth flickered once more, and then appeared with a notepad and pencil in her hands. “One more time?”

            “Momus,” Will almost snapped, even though he knew it wasn’t Annabeth’s fault that their call quality was terrible. “Find out who he is.”

            “—do that,” Annabeth said with a nod as she scribbled something on the notepad. “In the meantime, ask—”

            Will almost let out a cry as the stream started to fade. He wanted to reach his hand out to stop it, but he knew it was useless. Annabeth appeared closer to the stream and appeared to be yelling, though what she was saying wasn’t coming through.

            “Malcolm! He’ll know! I’ll find out what I—” In an instant, she disappeared with the droplets of water, which Will kicked at as soon as they landed on the ground. He frowned and turned towards the Athena cabin, knowing Malcolm might be his one chance at finding out more about Momus; there was no way of predicting how Annabeth would be able to get any information back to him, especially with Iris messages dropping left and right.

            It wasn’t that he _disliked_ Malcolm; Will didn’t think he disliked anyone (except for Momus, who he was quickly beginning to despise). It was just that Malcolm sometimes had a habit of staring at someone with disdain whenever they asked what he thought to be a “foolish question”. He seemed to be uncomfortable in almost every conversation they’d had, to the point where Will had once asked him if he needed to be healed for whatever was making him look like he had pulled several muscles. Malcolm hadn’t said anything in response, and Will awkwardly excused himself (he had to lay down for several hours to recover from how strange that encounter was).

            He thought that Nico might have mentioned that Malcolm had played Mythomagic before, so perhaps he really would know something about Momus. He cast a glance back at his cabin and sighed. If Nico was awake now, he hoped he could feel Will’s discomfort at having to interact with Malcolm.

            “The things I do for him…” Will muttered under his breath as he started towards the Athena cabin.

* * *

 

            As soon as he entered, Malcolm said, “I’ll be with you in a moment.” It was almost like _he_ was the doctor, and Will was his patient, which was so laughable to Will that he almost turned and walked out. He sat on the edge of one of the beds and crossed and uncrossed his legs. Malcolm was scribbling at some drawing or essay or translation or whatever it was that he occupied his time with. Will cleared his throat, hoping it would signal to Malcolm that he didn’t have time to waste the whole day perching on a bed to talk with him.

            Malcolm swiveled around in his chair (another thing Will found funny) and stared at Will for a few seconds before saying, “Yes?” Although it came out so monotone, it sounded less like a question and more like a declarative statement. Will almost excused himself once again (it was very tempting) but managed to stay.

            “Annabeth told me to ask you what you know about Momus,” he said. If this had any effect on Malcolm, he didn’t show it. He pushed his glasses up and nodded his head a little.

            “You used to play Mythomagic, right? I’d never even heard of him, but Nico has. You have to know something about him,” Will said, trying to avoid making himself sound too desperate.

            “Momus is the god of mockery, satire, and blame,” Malcolm stated like he was reading from a textbook. “He was cast off of Olympus for constantly insulting the gods and has been trying to worm his way back ever since.”

            Will leaned forward a little. “I gathered that much from interacting with him,” he replied, “but he has to have some…weakness, right? I mean, wouldn’t he have to so he could be a card in Mythomagic?”

            Malcolm’s face started to show hints of disdain, and Will decided that if he couldn’t get what information he needed in the next five minutes, he would have to leave. Besides, Nico was probably awake by now, and he needed to check on him.

            “Has Nico ever shown you a Mythomagic card?” Malcolm said, and it looked like he was beginning to smirk. “Never mind, that doesn’t matter. Honestly, a lot of information about Momus has been difficult to track down—I know this because I always researched each card when I got it. He hasn’t served much of a purpose, other than to be the patron god of being salty.”

            Will laughed in surprise, and Malcolm blushed and looked away. “Is that…is that not what people are saying these days?”

            Will smiled at Malcolm in a way he hoped seemed encouraging and not condescending. “It is, but I just never expected to hear you use it so well.”

            “Well, thanks,” Malcolm conceded, then continued. “I’m willing to bet that Momus’s weakness has something to do with being insulted. You know that old saying—‘you can dish it out but you can’t take it’? I’m sure that would be apt in describing how Momus interacts with the world. If I remember correctly, Momus didn’t have much tactical or combat skill in Mythomagic; all he could do was insult whoever his opponent was. I’m sure if you were to put a Momus card against a Momus card, things would self-destruct. He wouldn’t be able to handle having his own skill used against him. Here’s an analogy I’m sure you’ll appreciate: ‘a taste of his own medicine.’”

            Malcolm looked extremely proud of all the information that he had just presented to Will and that he seemed to be making some kind of clever remarks in conversation. But Will was beyond thinking about how awkward everything was, he was thinking about a term that applied to cooking competitions and insulting others: a roast.

            “Momus is narcissistic, right?” he asked Malcolm, who rolled his eyes and chuckled.

            “I pegged you as more observant than that,” Malcolm quipped back. “Wouldn’t you agree that most ‘comedians’ whose humor is based purely on insults must put forth a face of narcissism that masks their insecurities?”

            Will stood up with a start and put a hand on Malcolm’s shoulder. “I appreciate this psychological delve into Momus’s pea-sized brain, but I’ve got to go now.”

            Malcolm almost looked sorry to see Will go, and Will felt a little bad—even if Malcolm had no physical ailment he could cure, it seemed that being able to joke around with someone was really helping him. “Alright. I’ll see you around, I guess,” Malcolm said.

            Will looked off into the distance in a way that he was sure made him seem dramatic and maybe a little heroic (maybe he took after his father in more ways than he thought). “I’ve got a roast to organize.”

* * *

 

            “A roast?” Nico asked. They were at the Apollo cabin’s table in the dining pavilion, though Nico hadn’t touched any of the food on his plate the whole night. “You’re kidding me, right?”

            “We have to get rid of him somehow,” Will said. He reached his hand across the table and took Nico’s hand in his. “I want to make things right.”

            Nico blushed and looked down at his food. Will studied his face and thought he noticed some guilt starting to emerge, but Austin tapped on his arm and pulled his attention away.

            “Heard you wanna put on a roast,” Austin whispered excitedly. “Fuck Momus, am I right?”

            “Not literally, I hope,” Nico deadpanned, to which Austin laughed and shook his head.

            “This guy,” he remarked and pointed his fork at Nico, but didn’t finish the statement.

            Will smiled at seeing how excited Austin was to get involved—and at how Nico was finally seeming to settle in with interacting with his cabin. As he looked around at his half-siblings, he realized he didn’t have to undertake everything alone like he’d been trying to do. All of these people were willing to help him (even if it was really all to help Nico, which some of them wouldn’t realize).

            “Who better than us to put on a big, gaudy show?” Will said. Austin nodded excitedly and grinned.

            “A big, gaudy, _humiliating_ show, you mean,” he corrected. “Even if none of us are…well, extremely similar to Apollo, if you get what I mean, we’ve all got some of his showmanship in us, right?”

            Nico had his head in his hand and was smiling at Will. “The way you’re talking about this sounds like you’re throwing a party,” he said. “Like you’re not about to drag and humiliate a Greek god in front of the entirety of Olympus.”

            “A big fuck you party,” Austin sniggered, which got Kayla’s attention.

            “What are we doing now?” she asked. “A fuck _who_ party? You know, I’ve had my eye on this girl in the Athena cabin…”

            “No, no,” Austin said and waved his hands in the air to stop her. “We’re gonna roast Momus.”

            Kayla shared a glance with Will across the table before she broke out into a grin. “That’s epic.”

            The way she smiled at him seemed like she was proud of him, and she reached out her hand to high five him. As he slapped his palm against hers, he recognized that she saw him taking care of himself instead of others for once. And as he heard Nico laugh at something Austin said, a little part of him knew that maybe this would be good for him, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the extreme delay in updating! I started working again, which has really swallowed up my time. I hope this chapter makes up for that! Enjoy!


	3. Rehearsal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Nico attend a rehearsal for Momus's roast, and things get a little...heated.

            Will had never seen the camp in such a state of anticipation, not even when Gaia and her forces were coming to attack (okay, maybe that wasn’t true, but everyone _was_ really excited). By day, campers dragged themselves through filming the reality TV show with Momus—and Will had a feeling his father must have been beaming down at the impressive acting displays from the rest of the campers that weren’t his children. Momus seemed to be pleased with the sudden politeness of the campers; even Rachel managed to tone herself down, which was an accomplishment in itself.

            At night, the Apollo cabin became a speakeasy for vindictive activity. Since Austin and Kayla weren’t required to be filming with Momus all day, they had been sneaking around to different cabins, finding campers with obscure talents or specialized skills. They interviewed them on the beach since the camera crew always had their backs facing the water. By the middle of the week, Will’s half-siblings had assembled an arsenal of salty, pissed-off campers ready to beat Momus into the dirt. After two nights of auditions, “The Roast of Momus” was shaping up to be longer than any Greek tragedy could’ve hoped to be.

            Rehearsals weren’t so bad, if only because it gave Will the chance to relax and laugh while spending time with Nico. He wasn’t so sure if the rehearsal process was as enjoyable for Nico as it was for everyone else, but he didn’t seem to be dying (har-har) to get away from the crowd of campers like he usually was.

            Will had also noticed that the performers were taken aback when Nico laughed at whatever they were saying—then beamed with pride that they had succeeded in making him smile, what had seemed to many others to be an impossible task. Although still skinny and exhausted, Nico looked healthier than he had in a while.

            A gravelly voice came through the microphone the Apollo cabin always had on hand. “You ever heard of a show called ‘Punk’d’?” Clarisse roared, and from behind him, Austin began to whoop.

            Nico shook his head with a smirk and tried to cover up his smile with his hand. Will slipped his arm around Nico and found that instead of bristling at his touch—an involuntary reaction, Nico had once explained—the son of Hades leaned in. Will sighed and smiled.

            “Don’t get too content, Solace,” Nico interjected. “If these campers are as good as your siblings promise, we’ll be falling off of our seats momentarily.”

            Will elbowed him in response. “Hey, come on, Clarisse is really putting herself out there.”

            Nico turned to look at the makeshift stage (a bunch of beds pushed together with pieces of wood placed on top, in retrospect a terribly unsafe idea which could potentially cause an excessive need for healing). He cocked an eyebrow then shrugged.

            “She seems less miserable than she used to be,” he stated plainly. “She still wants to pummel everyone, but she’s smiling more. I don’t think it used to be that way.”

            Will chuckled. “I forgot you’re an old man.” Nico flicked the side of Will’s face in response. “What about you?”

            Nico pointedly turned away and crossed his arms over his chest. “Solace—”

            “Are you less miserable than you used to be?” Will couldn’t disguise the note of pleading in his voice, his pathetic hope that Nico had stopped cutting himself and gods know what else.

            A quiet fell between them as Clarisse, using one of the sword fighting dummies from the arena, demonstrated how she would perfectly trick Momus into getting a pie in his face. The audience around them laughed, Nico among them.

            “Sure I am,” Nico muttered. “Of course I am. Solace—Will, you don’t need to worry about me.”

            Will pressed a kiss to his temple and ruffled his hair. “Of course I do. That’s what people do when they care about each other, see?”

            As the audience wiped tears from the corners of their eyes, Austin stood up and clapped his hands together. Everyone turned to him, and in true Austin fashion, he strutted up to the stage and leapt onto the wooden boards. The bed under his feet wobbled and Will shifted, ready to jump up if his brother fell down.

            “Good run-through, everyone!” he announced and started clapping his hands together. “Give yourselves a round of applause.”

            Nico began to clap and started smirking again. “I worked really hard on this one, Solace. Just wanted to make sure you knew.”

            “Shhh, just let him have this one,” Will whispered back, stifling laughter.

            Austin glanced around the room and seemed to be counting the amount of campers with his eyes. He was beaming, soaking it all up. Leadership really did that to you—when you organize something and there are few hitches, there’s something addictive about cooperating with so many people and your plan being executed as you had imagined. This kind of teamwork was something Will often didn’t get to see or even feel; being a healer, he ran from injured camper to camper, delegating other healers to assist less wounded people. He had never been in a formal Annabeth Chase strategy meeting, which he’d heard was awe-inspiring and terrifying. In a way, being a healer let him make his own plans, but there was something wonderful about preparing for the roast that he didn’t have much experience with. And, of course, his disastrous attempt at leadership known as the cooking competition had been twisted into something better—even better, especially, because all of these people were inadvertently helping Nico.

            “It seems that our acts have been solidified and rehearsed,” Austin began, gesturing to Kayla to come to his side. “We’ll let you know the show order by next rehearsal. Which, by the way, tomorrow night is mandatory—we’re going to run through the show twice at least. As many times as we can before the harpies start to come out at night.”

            Kayla ran a hand across her undercut and looked down at the list. “This roast is shaping up to be around two hours. Of course, there are some logistical concerns we’ll need to tackle. Some of you have to restrain Momus as best as you can—obviously, we want him to see all of your fantastic acts.”

            Beside Will, Nico cracked his knuckles and pulled his skull ring on and off. “Yeah, I’d like to restrain Momus,” he muttered. “Plenty of other things too. But perhaps they’d dampen the roast.”

            Will got close to Nico’s ear and whispered in a deep voice, “I love it when you get morbid and dark.” His hand crept up Nico’s knee towards his thigh.

            Nico blinked straight ahead at Austin and Kayla, but Will could see his pale face flush ever so slightly. “More where that came from,” he muttered back in a gravelly voice.

            As Will was about to reply, cheers broke out from the crowd, and he reluctantly snapped his attention back towards his siblings. It had been so long since he and Nico had properly flirted; he hadn’t wanted to push Nico too much because he could tell there was always something else on his mind.

            “Will, come on up here!” Austin called, waving from the bed like Will was just getting off a boat and needed help finding him in the crowd.

            Beside him, Nico began to laugh. Will slapped his arm and shifted his body away from his boyfriend’s so it wouldn’t seem like they were…as _indisposed_ as they were.

            “Right, right. Uh…” Will shook out his hair and tried to straighten his walk as he approached the bed/stage. What in Hades were they calling him up for? He had handed off most of the roast preparation to the two of them, each of whom had far more experience with performing than he ever had (his role as “Tulip #3” in _Teddy’s Garden Party_ in second grade did not qualify as experience, a fact that Rachel spent quite some time disputing).

            “Get up here with me, bro!” Austin said, gesturing towards the air next to him.

            “Um, absolutely not,” Will insisted. “In fact, as resident healer, I feel like you shouldn’t be up there either.”

            Will shot a glance at Kayla, who only smiled and shrugged. Austin clapped a hand on his shoulder and pushed him towards the groups of campers in a half circle around the bed/stage, sitting in whatever chairs they could find or on beds or the floor. He had a second to wonder if this was what Annabeth felt like before Austin shoved him harder.

            “Tell ‘em what it’s all about.” Behind him, Will could hear the bed/stage creaking as Austin paced about, probably throwing in a few choice dance moves or poses as Will spoke.

            There were any number of things that “it” could be, but Will decided to use his limited context clues and assume that Austin was referring to the roast.

            “Right. Uh…hi. You all know me.” He threw in an awkward wave, to which Nico responded by giving him finger guns from the back. His face flushed. “I’m Will Solace, the, uh, genius behind the cook-off.” Scattered claps, some coughing. Will glanced over at Kayla and found no support from her, only a small hand gesture indicating he needed to “pick up the energy”.

            “Well, anyway, I hope this roast will rectify that mistake,” he blathered. “It was a very, uh, it was a good idea at first, right? Like maybe some of your jokes.” Clarisse scowled at him and he shook his head frantically. “No, no! I didn’t mean, like, the ones you just did. I meant the ones you did before, like before you came in here.”

            Beside him, Kayla closed her eyes and shook her head—but she was smiling, so Will knew this was some rotten idea of his half-siblings. “Look, Momus is shitty, alright?” he reached. A few cheers, a slow clap from Nico. “He sucks and I didn’t want him getting in on my decent plan. But you know the gods…”

            At this, the campers started to laugh and cheer. Will was bewildered but tried to continue. “Anyway, we have to, uh—what’s that phrase? Clap back. We have to clap back, guys, because Momus is worse than the sweat stains on Mr. D’s shirt.” He pointed accusatorily at the audience, but mostly at Nico, who looked positively gleeful at Will’s folly. “ _No one_ tell him I said that. In fact, I never said anything about him.”

            “We have to do this and we have to make it kick ass,” Will said, his voice picking up strength. “This camp needs better morale—for real. We’ve been moping around ever since Gaea, and I know rebuilding everything after that battle wasn’t exactly an empowering moment. So we’ll do this, and it’s going to be the best thing anyone’s ever seen, and it’ll help everyone, not just us. Uh…doctor’s orders.”

            Austin jumped down from the bed/stage to stand next to Will and nodded solemnly. “You heard the man! Everyone, get some rest, and we’ll see you bright and late tomorrow night. Stay sharp, stay focused, and kick ass, my friends.”

            As they filed out of the cabin, campers cheered and laughed, jostling each other back and forth. It reminded Will of a time years before—a bucolic month after Kronos’s defeat and camp expansion, where it seemed like the stress of being a half-blood maybe wouldn’t be so bad. His gaze flickered to Nico, who, despite being a supposed “guest of honor” of this whole affair, still sat at the back of the room towards the shadows like he always did. The things he had seen were nothing compared to the things Will had seen during the Battle of Manhattan; the roast _had_ to be great, not just for him, but for all the other campers who had seen as many terrifying things as he had.

            Somehow, being lost in thought caused him to unfocus his eyes, so he was caught by surprise when Nico slugged his arm then wrapped an arm around his waist. “You idiot,” he said with a laugh. “I could’ve done a better job at that.”

            “Definitely not,” Will protested, and leaned in to peck Nico on the mouth. They laughed into the kiss, but Nico pulled away quickly and glanced around at Will’s remaining siblings with embarrassment.

            “Nice one, bro,” Austin said. “Really fantastic speech there. Who coached you? The president of the United States?”

            Kayla laughed and elbowed Austin. “You don’t even know his name, Austin, so your insult is disqualified.”

            “Are we in some kind of competition here?” Nico drawled. “I will decimate all of you in an insult contest, so don’t even try.”

            Suddenly, Rachel stood up from the back of the cabin and clapped her hands together. “Alright, gross sibling friendship behavior over now, please. I don’t think we’ve discussed one of the most crucial details of this whole shebang.”

            Nico smirked at her. “What? Your payroll?”

            Rachel guffawed and slung an arm around his shoulder. “No, you idiot. We seem to have forgotten to invite Momus.”

            The group of planners began to chuckle nervously. Will, Kayla, and Austin all glanced at each other, then back at Rachel. Their eyes seemed to be asking each other, “Didn’t you ask him?”

            Rachel pulled her hair up into a ponytail, but her holder snapped around her bushy hair and she sighed. “As much as I love delegating responsibilities to the next guy, I really don’t think it would be a good idea for me to ask Momus. He hates me and I hate him.”

            As if in sync (very cinematically, Will noted), Kayla, Austin, and Rachel all turned towards him. “I think it would be most conciliatory and least suspicious for you two to ask him,” Rachel began, pointing towards Will and Nico.

            Nico rolled his eyes. “Come on, Dare. ‘Conciliatory’? Who are you? Don’t pull out that prep school shit now. Just say you know he’ll get some sick pleasure out of seeing us grovel and apologize which will persuade him to come.”

            Rachel shrugged. “Fine, if that’s how you see it, Death Boy.” She put her hand to her forehead and began to speak like she was a voice actress on an old radio show. “Oh, Momus, we’re so sorry we’ve been so cruel to you, a god, and now see the error of our ways. Please, do accept this formal apology and attend the tribute event we have planned for you this Friday evening.”

            Kayla cleared her throat. “I have to agree. He has no idea who Austin and I are, and I’ve overheard him talking with Chiron a bunch of times trying to get Rachel removed from the judges’ panel—”

            “Good,” Rachel growled, and clenched her fists at her side.

            “Anyway, Rachel is right. He _would_ get some major ego-boosting from seeing you and Nico apologizing and claiming to see how you were wrong about him.”

            “Maybe throw in some like, sob gay story in there,” Austin suggested.

            The group got quiet. Will’s glance immediately shot to Nico, who cleared his throat and untangled himself from Rachel.

            “That would be completely unnecessary,” he muttered. “Please don’t say anything else stupid tonight, or I’m afraid some skeletons will accidentally come through the floor.”

            Will rushed to Nico’s side. “Hah, uh, what I think Nico’s trying to say is that we don’t need to make it gay to be sad or anything. It’ll be very authentic. You can even coach us on how to make it seem real.”

            At that, Austin’s eyes lit up, and a smile crossed his face. “You don’t mean that.”

            As Nico stepped on his foot, Will said, “Of course I do.”

            Rachel was watching the whole exchange with an amused expression, her highly arched eyebrows cocked far up her forehead. “Then it’s settled.”

            Kayla glanced up at the clock above the doorway and sighed. “I think we all need to get to bed. We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow. Are you gonna call lights out, Will?”

            Will looked at Nico, who looked like he’d just walked in on his father trying on some of Persephone’s tunics. “I’m gonna walk Nico back to his cabin first, and then we’ll all get some rest. Counting on you to wrangle the younger ones while I’m gone.”

            Austin began to shuffle beds and pillows back into their places. “It’s not a vacation, Solace, so if you’re not back in 15 minutes I’m calling Chiron.”

            Will ignored his comment and led Nico to the doorway, waving goodbye to Rachel as she sped ahead of them. She winked as she walked towards her little cave and threw a thumbs up towards Will.

* * *

 

            “I’m sorry,” Will began as he and Nico came to a stop on the porch of the Hades cabin. “Austin doesn’t mean to say stuff like that.”

            To his surprise, Nico softened and shrugged. “I know he doesn’t. But that still doesn’t make me less irritated about it.”

            For a moment, Will let himself indulge in staring at Nico in the low lighting. His high cheekbones, the freckles across the ridge of his nose and his cheeks, his full, Italian lips, all were distracting, enticing, and cute at the same time. He couldn’t help but smile like an idiot and feel his cheeks grow embarrassingly hot—a fact which he hoped the shadows would hide. Of course, there was always the real possibility that Nico had night vision—something he had always insisted, which Will had always refuted.

            “I’m proud of you,” Will said and took Nico’s hand.

            “Uh oh,” Nico replied, but didn’t move away. “Don’t get sappy on me, Solace.”

            “It’s just—even a few months ago, none of the stuff we did tonight you would’ve even considered. But it’s like you’re part of our Apollo family now, and you’re laughing and joking with Kayla and Austin like you’ve known them forever. And you didn’t even run away when Austin called you gay.”

            Nico averted his gaze and shuffled his feet to be closer to Will. “Well, I guess that’s what I am.”

            “What’s that?”

            “Um, gay. And also…I guess a part of your Apollo family.” Nico took Will’s other hand in his and looked back up at him. “I’m chilly.”

            Will swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and wrapped his arms around Nico. “You’re always cold, Nico.”

            “Damn,” Nico drawled. “And I thought I’d finally started to show you my warm heart.”

            Suddenly, Nico broke out into a laugh, and Will began to laugh too. He pulled Nico closer and kissed him. Nico leaned in immediately and drew his hands slowly up Will’s back—something he knew gave Will goosebumps—and rested one hand on his shoulder and the other in his hair. Will felt the crisp fall air against his cheeks, which flamed as he realized how long it had been since he’d kissed Nico— _really_ kissed Nico, let himself slip away into the grip of Nico’s hands on his body, their pelvises pressed together.

            Will sucked on Nico’s bottom lip, which made him sigh and lean closer to Will. He wished it wasn’t so late; the more they kissed, the more he found his hands tugging at the hem of Nico’s shirt, sliding down the back of his jeans to touch the elastic band of his underwear. He wanted to melt into Nico like he did when they shadow-travelled. He wanted to press his leg between Nico’s thighs and let it lead to something more. He wanted to plant kisses across Nico’s body, as if they could heal his past pain.

            Nico pulled away and gripped the side of Will’s face with his hand. His fingers were frigid, but his grip was strong. Instead of ducking away, his dark eyes bore straight into Will’s. As he blinked for a moment and caught his breath, a smile slid slowly across his face. Will reached up and put his hand on Nico’s face, too, and smiled and laughed as he realized they were both panting and trying to pretend they didn’t each have boners.

            “Maybe we shouldn’t,” Nico breathed, looking around. “At least not right here.”

            “No, no, you’re right.” Will nodded. He knew Austin and Kayla were waiting for him back in the cabin after doing his nightly duties for him—if he didn’t hurry back, he’d never hear the end of it.

            “Could we, uh…” Nico looked away and closed his eyes. “Another time…”

            Will tilted Nico’s face back up to his. “You want to?” he asked earnestly. “Are you sure? We don’t have—”

            “I want to,” Nico cut Will off. “I…think I need to.”

            “Yeah?” Will asked, and moved his other hand and grabbed Nico’s ass. “Hmm, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you—maybe, just maybe—were enjoying yourself.”

            “Shut up,” Nico hissed. “After we tell Momus about the roast or something—come to my cabin, and we’ll, uh—”

            At this, Will leaned in to kiss him. He pressed their foreheads together and felt Nico’s hot breath on his cheek.

            “Absolutely,” Will whispered. He moved towards Nico’s ear and whispered, “Doctor’s orders.”

            “Ugh.” Nico hit him across the chest. “What a disgusting, flirty thing to say.” But he laughed and kissed Will again.

            “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Will said as he began to untangle himself from Nico. Their hands stayed together for a moment before Nico turned towards the door. A rush of cold air burst from the cabin as Nico shut the door behind him—but not before whispering, “Goodnight, Will.”

            Will tried his best to calm himself down before walking in to the Apollo cabin. He double and triple checked his pants to make sure everything looked normal. Austin had eagle eyes and if he noticed anything (and Will wasn’t so foolish as to think that Austin wouldn’t know exactly what he and Nico had been doing), Will would never hear the end of it.

            As he strolled in over the threshold, trying to act like his heart wasn’t fluttering up into his throat, Kayla rolled her eyes and nudged Austin.

            “I already called Chiron,” Austin said in a loud whisper, “you deviant.”

            “Shut up,” Will replied, but couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “You’ll wake the kids.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for not updating in so long! I moved in August and have been busy/adjusting ever since. But I spent a good amount of time planning out each chapter recently, and re-reading PJO has definitely helped me get back into the groove of updating. I know this chapter is a little short, but the upcoming one will be long!  
> Thanks so much for reading!


	4. Practice Makes Perfect (Or Convincing Enough)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Nico have to learn how to say sorry to Momus. They invite him to the roast, which delights him too much.

            Despite the long technical rehearsal, Will was (begrudgingly, nervously) excited for the roast. Acts had been cut, rearranged, reordered, rewritten—the show was at once the same and completely different from how it had been just days earlier. He was certain that the whole camp was involved. Rachel created the posters that were hidden in boxes under his bed. Members of the Ares cabin stood guard outside of their rehearsal space so nothing would be spoiled. Everything was falling into place.

            Will had tried to _strongly suggest_ to Nico to take a position backstage, but he refused. He twisted his skull ring and shook his head. “You know I’m not a people person or a team player,” he stated plainly. “I’m more of a ‘dash-in-at-the-last-moment-of-the-battle’ kind of guy.”

            Will had just shrugged in response. “Well, if a light falls backstage, guess we know who’s gonna go get it.”

            Nico frowned. “Who?”

            “Me, dummy, since I know Austin and Kayla are going to conscript me into that mess.” Will shrugged. “I think you and I are both ‘I belong in the audience’ types.”

            Several feet in front of their seats, Austin roared with laughter at a mime act some of the Demeter kids had put together. Despite the long hours of rehearsal—sometimes six or seven hours a night—Austin was whole-heartedly enjoying every part of the rehearsal process.

            “Have you thought about what you’re going to say to Momus?” Will asked.

            Nico smiled crookedly. “Us Hades kids aren’t very good at apologies, you know.”

            Will laughed. “Rachel told me about the time you broke her—”

            “I’m still not sorry!” Nico said a little too loudly, then shrunk back into his chair. “Anyway, I thought _you_ were Mr. Man-With-The-Plan and would’ve figured something out by now.”

            Glancing down at a crack in the cabin floor, Will blushed. He had, in fact, pointedly spent a lot of time _not_ figuring out what to say to Momus—because he, like Nico, wasn’t very inclined to apologize to the intrusive god who had ruined his sort of okay plan. He had hoped maybe Rachel would step out of her cavern and realize Momus would also enjoy an apology from _her_. And Rachel, with all her prep school training and her wealthy father, surely had enough experience with kissing the asses of those more powerful than her, even if she hated it. It seemed to be her gig—and yet Will found himself scrambling to come up with how exactly he should apologize.

            “Actually, ah….” Will stared straight ahead and sighed. “I think we might have to—”

            Nico immediately grabbed Will’s face in his hands and shook it back and forth. “No. Say it with me: N-O, Solace.”

            Will started to smile a little and nodded against the pressure of Nico’s frigid hands. “Y-E-S, di Angelo—we’ll need to humble ourselves before Austin for apology acting training.”

            Nico sat back in his chair sullenly and flicked Will’s thigh. “I hate you.”

            Will leaned back and slung an arm around his boyfriend. “That’s the spirit.”

* * *

 

            If Will had a camera, he would have snapped a photo of the gleeful, delirious look on Austin’s face as he asked him for help scripting an apology to Momus. Austin, who was normally happy-go-lucky as it was, looked like he had ascended to a new plane of happiness—much to Nico’s chagrin, who insisted he wouldn’t partake in any “funny business, acting exercises, or monologue training.” The night was already running long with rehearsal, and clean-up of props and costumes hadn’t even begun. Will realized that this would be the first instance in his life where he was pulling an all-nighter _without_ being in a deadly battle.

            Austin had sent Kayla to go get Rachel (which Nico had responded to with so many “no”s he sounded like a Garage Band loop), so Will and Nico sat watching Austin scribbling something on a whiteboard that was being used by the backstage crew. (“Won’t you need to keep everything that’s on there?” Will asked, to which Austin shook his head and tapped his temple).

            With flair that seemed to sparkle in the darkness, Austin turned around to reveal he had written “APOLOGY” in big letters across the board. He had run out of room towards the end, and the G and the Y were running close together. Hands outstretched, huge grin plastered to his face, Austin gestured towards the board like it was a first place trophy.

            “That took you five minutes?” Nico asked, which earned him an elbow in the ribs from Will.

            “This, my dear Death Boy, is the key to your success.” Austin began to pace. It reminded Will of what his teachers used to do when he was in school—which felt so long ago that he was a little disoriented watching his half-brother do the same thing. “What do you know about apologies?”

            Nico got his half-grin, half-grimace out, which meant he was about to craft the world’s most backhanded compliment, insult, or just otherwise mean statement and deliver it with the confidence of an Aphrodite camper. “Austin, I can tell you’re a scholar of the fine arts. But clearly, you haven’t done your homework in learning about the gods.”

            Austin frowned, but didn’t lose any of his pomp. “How so?”

            Nico leaned back casually in his chair and tipped the front legs off the ground, which looked effortless and attractive and made Will blush. “You know, kids of Hades all have one thing in common.” Nico began to count his words out on his fingers. “We love to hold grudges. And we _hate_ apologizing.”

            Nico peered out at Austin from under his hair and sent him a smile so chilling Will thought dew would start to form on the grass. Austin looked momentarily terrified, and Will pushed Nico, even though it was somehow insanely hot to watch him intimidate the shit out of people.

            “Alright, show-off, in this instance you’re gonna have to learn to say sorry. Start by apologizing to Austin.”

            Nico rolled his eyes. “Sorry, Austin. But you deserve to know: there’s few things in this world I hate more than apologizing and forgiving.”

            Austin began to pace around the small backstage space of the amphitheater, running his hands over his cornrows. His footsteps echoed off the marble into the high ceiling, and the dim glow of the few lights backstage made his pacing even more dramatic. “Listen, di Angelo, you’re the lynchpin of this whole plan. You’re the key. You gotta suck up, dude. You gotta apologize, even if you don’t have a single thing to be sorry for. That dude out there is gonna _feed_ on you whimpering to his face about how you can’t believe you’ve offended a god—”

            “Okay, Austin, I get the picture, but I don’t think we ever discussed any _whimpering_ ,” interjected Will. “I draw my line there.”

            Austin shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine, fine. Listen, the roast is in a few days and Momus doesn’t even know yet. So let’s just jump right in. I’ll be Momus, you guys be…well, you.”

            “Can I be Will? I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to be blond.” Nico asked, raising a hand. He was grinning like he meant it—like he was maybe even _enjoying_ all this.

            “Careful, Nico, don’t get too excited—Austin will get the idea that you like acting, and you won’t hear the end of it when the talent show rolls around.”

            Nico shrugged and stood up to face Austin. “Let’s get this over with.”

            As Will stood up to join him, he heard distant whoops and hollers coming from the stage as Rachel and Kayla approached the wings.

            “I almost thought we missed the show!” shouted an out of breath Rachel, who slung herself over a chair and gestured for Kayla to do the same. “Alright, we’ll be the judges of how sincere this whole thing is.”

            Will felt his face grow hot from all the attention. Of course, this was all silly and fun, but there was a reason he didn’t…well, he knew he didn’t inherit any of his father’s talent for performing. He didn’t want to put on some sort of gay pity party for Momus to get off on, and especially not for the amusement of his siblings.

            “Let’s take this seriously, please,” Will begged. He pointed a finger at Rachel. “That means you, since I know you’re just loving to see Nico up here.”

            Rachel rolled her eyes and wiped a smudge of paint off her nose. “Oh, please. Di Angelo’s such a drama queen I don’t need to imagine him being onstage. This whole _camp_ is his stage.”

            Nico gritted his teeth. “I try, Dare. It’s all for you.”

            “Okay!” Austin clapped his hands together and closed his eyes. He puffed out his cheeks in what could only have been an attempt to make himself as paunchy as Momus. “And…go.”

            “Uh…” Will felt worse than he did in his second grade stage debut, where he got so nervous he threw up a little bit in his mouth. Being practical and pragmatic as he was, it was sometimes hard to just…well, imagine things. “Hi, Momus.”

            “What do you brats want?” Austin said in a decent imitation of the god’s choppy voice.

            “I hate you,” Nico stated flatly.

            “Cut!” Rachel yelled from the audience. “Nico, no funny business!”

            Nico turned on his hell to face her. “I _expressly stated_ that I would not partake in any funny business at the beginning of this, did I not?” he turned to Will. “Did I not?”

            Will sighed. “He did say he didn’t want to do any funny business or acting exercises.”

            Nico crossed his arms over his chest. “I think this falls into both, but I’ll _humor you_ —ha ha, get it?—and continue.” He glowered at Austin, and another wave of chill passed through the room. “I’ll be serious.”

            “Okay, take two,” Austin began, with all the patience of a preschool teacher. “You horrible boys, what are you doing here?”

            “‘Horrible boys’? Austin, come on, now you’re just asking for us to laugh!” Will said through giggles.

            Austin cracked a smile. “Okay, that was pretty bad. Okay, serious now.” He took in a deep breath. “You rotten cretins better spit out whatever nonsense you have to say to me, or I’ll have my camera crew beat your heads in.”

            “We came to say…” Will began. He tried to close his eyes and imagine Momus before him. Instantly, he was filled with anger at how his well-intentioned idea had been turned into nothing more than a freak show for the gods. For a moment, the air was stale beneath his nose, and he struggled to remind himself he was standing backstage at the amphitheater. “We’re…sorry.” Just saying those words—even to a fake Momus—felt like swallowing kitty litter. Disgusting.

            “I second that,” Nico stated. He patted Will’s shoulder. “He’s better with words. He’ll tell you why.”

            “We wanted to invite you…to a celebration,” Will continued through gritted teeth. He could feel Rachel’s eyes analyzing everything about him—his stature, his voice, even the position of his hands. “A celebration of you. You are the god of comedy, and I don’t think we’ve…appreciated that enough.”

            Austin stroked his chin. “A celebration, you say? A…comedic celebration? That does sound lovely, but I would need the broadcasting rights for perpetuity and signed statements from you all detailing how your comedy came from me and _only_ me.” He paused, then faced Nico. “And I need to hear you say I’m sorry.”

            Nico turned towards Will and gave him his dead-eyed stare, the one that meant he was just overwhelmed with dealing with the idiocy of other people and needed to leave _immediately_. Will tried to jump to his aid. “Uh…Nico lost his voice.”

            “Doing what?” Austin said, a glimmer in his eye. “A little…hanky panky, hmm? You boys getting into some trouble with each other?”

            “I’m not going to detail my sex life to you or Momus, Austin, although I know you’re so curious.” Nico shrugged. “Whatever. I think this is fine.” He turned to Rachel. “I mean…this _is_ fine?”

            Rachel shook her head. “It’s clear neither of you are inspired performers. Go ahead and clean up all this crap, and Austin, Kayla, and I will write you an apology speech worthy of an Emmy.”

            “Don’t need to tell me twice,” Nico grumbled, then outstretched a hand to Will. “Let’s go.”

            And Will, despite feeling bizarrely exposed and caught up in his thoughts, took his hand. Because when Nico di Angelo gave him looks like that with the promise of touching him, Will couldn’t refuse.

* * *

 

            Cleaning up props and costumes took about an hour or so, which was only extended by the amount of times Nico and Will snuck off to kiss under the stars. The area by the amphitheater could be romantic, especially if you were desperate. But its curved back wall was not ideal for being pinned up against, Will soon learned.

            It wasn’t just because he was out late that Will woke up exhausted the next day. He had tossed and turned all night while thinking about apologizing to Momus. Will considered himself a pretty easy-going dude, reliable in a crisis, loyal til the end. But something about Momus made him feel like he had just walked past Ares about a dozen times: angry, irritable, and ready to fight.

            Perhaps it was his intense loyalty that was getting in the way of his fake-apology. The cook off had been born of a need to protect Nico, for whom he cared deeply. Not only had Momus meddled in what wasn’t ever his in the first place, he had turned it into a constant stream of harassing and embarrassing Nico and Will. It filled Will with such acid, such bile that he could have spit at Momus’s feet and felt the godly consequences, and he would have accepted it.

            But Will knew in his heart of hearts he wasn’t that kind of person. If apologizing to Momus meant helping Nico, then he would do it. And he would at least attempt a smile when he did.

            A note was tacked to his bed that morning written in Rachel’s messy script (which was slightly cursive, remnants of her years at fancy schools). It was her, Austin, and Kayla’s “strong suggestions” for what Nico and Will should say to Momus—though they wouldn’t necessarily need to memorize it, it certainly would help guide them in that conversation. Will unfolded the paper and read it.

_TO WILL (AND PROBABLY NICO): USE THIS!_

_WILL/NICO/BOTH: Momus, we need to talk to you._

_MOMUS: I hate you turds. What do you want?_

_WILL: We came to say we’re sorry.*  
***WE ASSUME WILL WILL SPEAK ON NICO’S BEHALF SINCE NICO IS A LOSER AND WON’T SAY SORRY, EVEN WHEN HE BREAKS PRIZED POSSESSIONS.***_

_WILL: We haven’t treated you fairly since you entered camp. Camp Half-Blood is a place of second chances, and we didn’t even offer that to you. We should have more respect for you, since you’re a god, and your domain is what helps keep our days fun. We are now humbly asking that you give_ us _a second chance and allow us to have you as the guest of honor at our Momus-themed variety show._

The rest of the paper had various scenarios, all with vague, light-hearted references to Nico and Rachel’s past interactions. With a sigh, Will got up from his bed and went to find Nico, script in hand. They had some work to do.

* * *

 

            It was nearly dusk by the time Will and Nico had steeled themselves enough to talk to Momus. Nico had clutched Will’s hand so tightly on the walk over to the cafeteria that Will’s hand became so pale it matched Nico’s skin. Nico, per usual, had barely touched his food, but he looked like he might scare his own voice out of himself if he wasn’t careful.

            As they approached Momus’s camp, Will stopped and turned Nico to face him. “Relax, Nico. I’ll do the talking.” He reached out and held Nico’s hand in his own.

            Nico, in spite of his deep discomfort, smiled up at Will. “Haven’t you learned by now that I trust you, Solace, even if it’ll probably be the death of me?”

            Will laughed and kissed Nico’s forehead. Nico’s face flushed and he lightly socked Will’s arm.

            “Quit it with those healing kisses, asshole. I notice it when you do it.”

            Will smirked and did his best Apollo impression—handsome and aloof. “You love it, Death Boy.” He turned towards the opening between the tents. “Let’s move.”

            It seemed strange to be walking through the mostly deserted camp. Production equipment lay to the wayside by clipboards and headsets. Tents were zipped shut, or just empty altogether. The only light (the light at the end of a dreadful tunnel, if you may) was coming from Momus’s tent. The grounds seemed to have a hush over them as if they knew they were in the presence of a god, however minor he might be. Momus’s bulky outline was clear against the tan nylon of his camper. Will wondered, briefly, what it was that he was doing in Camp Half-Blood, now that his only reason for being here was temporarily on hold. It was uncomfortable, but he acknowledged (and maybe even felt bad) that Momus had nowhere else to go.

            Nico and Will shared a look when they reached the tent door. It was simultaneously a look of fear and a look of confusion, because how do you knock on a door made of cloth? Nico raised his hand as if to hit the fabric, then shrugged and put it back at his side. Will started to clear his throat, in the hopes that the sound would be enough to rouse Momus.

            It wasn’t. Will even tried coughing a little—no go. Finally, he tried to swallow in spite of his dry mouth and spoke up. “Uh, Momus, sir? Sorry to bother you—”

            The tent flap flung open as Momus revealed himself and glowered down at Nico and Will. “What are you boys doing here? Come to have a little romp, eh?”

            Will swallowed and blinked slowly, trying to bite his tongue. “Ah, no sir. We came because we…” he fought the urge to look at the ground and instead dragged his toe through the dirt. “We came to say we’re sorry.”

            Momus arched an eyebrow and glanced between the two boys. “ _Both_ of you?”

            Out of the corner of his eye, Will could see Nico twisting his skull ring and clenching his jaw. He put a hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder in an attempt to calm him down. “Yes, both of us. Nico here…lost his voice. Um, he’s been throwing up too much…from all the bad food we’ve eaten lately.”

            Nico nodded and stared past Momus’s head. Momus pushed through the tent’s opening—so he could stand at his full height, no doubt—and glowered down at the two boys.

            “Although you may think I adore arrogance because of my line of work, a little humbleness is appreciated now and again,” Momus stated. “Gloating _does_ tend to ruin stand-up routines. So…go ahead. Out with it.”

            Will felt blood in his mouth where he was clamping down on his tongue to prepare himself to lie harder than he ever had before in his life. “Momus, we respect you. You’re a god, after all, and we haven’t been very…thoughtful about the favor you’re doing us. A television show is a great way to remind our parents we’re here, and we sincerely hope it helps you get back on TV permanently where you belong.”

            Momus’s face began to shift—his lips curled upwards in a smile like he had just sold out a thousand stadiums across the world. His bushy eyebrows lifted away from his eyes, and he stopped squinting. “My, my. It seems you’ve had a change of heart.” He smirked when he looked at Nico. “How touching.”

            “Yes, we have.” Will could hear the ground sizzling underneath Nico’s feet, where a fissure was threatening to open up. He tried to rush his words out without giving them a sense of urgency. “Camp Half-Blood is a place of second chances, and we didn’t even give you a chance in the first place. So we’d like to invite you to a little something we’ve been working on. It’s a variety show all about you. To say thanks.”

            If Momus had the ability to turn into stars, he would have done it right at that moment. He looked like he could hover off the ground if he wanted to. “A variety show?” He began to smile, then narrowed his eyes at Will. “I was wrong about you, son of Apollo. And while I’m still no fan of your little mute plaything…I appreciate the offer. I must say, I cannot resist variety shows. I even go to that dreadful mortal television show _Saturday Night Live_ every once in a while.”

            Nico, who had been causing the grass within a six-inch radius of his feet to die, smiled his intimidating smile at Momus and spoke with a raspy voice. “We’ll see you this Friday, then. At the amphitheater. _Sir._ ”

            Momus again was taken by surprise and smiled even wider. “I certainly do hope you boys will be the stars of the show. They would just _love_ to see you on Olympus.”

            Will cleared his throat. “Uh, yes, well, we should probably be going. Don’t want to be late for rehearsal.”

            Momus began to retreat into his tent. “Of course not.” He chuckled to himself. “Yes, have fun at _rehearsal_ , and I’ll see you boys with my crew on Friday.”

            As the flap zippered back up, Will and Nico turned to face each other. Their expressions were mixed—elated, humored, irritated all in one. Will extended his hand to Nico, and they began to sprint away from the camp to a place where they could laugh without being overheard.

            When they reached the side of the climbing wall, they were out of breath from laughing and running. Will couldn’t help himself; he picked up Nico and swung him around, and Nico, for once, seemed to enjoy it.

            They leaned in and touched foreheads, panting and giddy and shocked that their plans had worked. Will pressed a kiss to Nico’s lips, and Nico’s warm laugh buzzed against his lips.

            “You idiot,” Nico said when they broke away. “Look at how heterosexual we’re being right now.”

            Will laughed and bent over. He ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t believe that worked! Gods, I deserve a _prize_ for that one! I mean, the _groveling_!”

            Nico pulled Will towards him and grinned. “Oh, you _groveled_ , Solace. You should’ve seen yourself.”

            “Me?!” Will exclaimed. “I thought you were gonna kill every plant within a four mile radius of us!”

            Nico looked surprised that Will had noticed, then began to laugh even harder. “I was _concentrating_ , Solace! I was trying to wilt the grass into a middle finger shape. But I guess I don’t have any artistic talent, despite what Dare may think.”

            As Will reached out for Nico once more, he heard a cry coming from the climbing wall, followed by a thud. In an instant, the joy was sucked out of the moment and Will switched into healer mode.

            “I’ll—” but before he could even finish, Nico was waving him away towards the camper who had fallen.

            As Will jogged over to heal the tiny Athena camper who had fallen and sprained her wrist, he felt a warmth in his chest that he hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever. He held the girl’s wrist in his hands and channeled that warmth towards her, relishing how good it felt to laugh with Nico and be a healer and not do anything else.

            “Thanks,” the girl sniffled as she shook out her wrist. “Ugh.”

            “You’ll get it with practice,” Will said as he stood up. “I promise.”

            He turned back towards Nico, trying to look as heroic and handsome as he could. Instead, he saw Nico’s figure slumped over a tree, clutching at his stomach—the tell-tale sign he was throwing up. And as Will ran over to heal someone else for the second time in minutes, he couldn’t ignore the worried knot in his stomach. Nico hadn’t eaten anything—so what was he trying to throw up? And why couldn’t Will shake the feeling that Nico had something to hide?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this long chapter makes up for the absence! Getting back into the writing groove can be hard. Thank you all for your patience! Your comments and kudos are much appreciated. :)  
> Also just wanted to say: message me about Percy Jackson, please! I currently have no one to hyperfixate about it with and I would love to just talk to anyone about the series. Don't be shy! Please!

**Author's Note:**

> There will be more to this story! This is just the first chapter. Hope you all enjoyed it :)


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